Wednesday, 11 June 1873

I worked well today; I am pleased with the whole day and proud of my conduct. There was not a single day of excessive heat; today it rained a little — the day is delicious, a little grey, but it lacks that freshness one finds in the north after a summer rain.
Yesterday in the railway carriage a Russian accosted Maman and my aunt, spoke to them in a very peculiar manner, and called on us today. Judging by yesterday’s conversation with Maman, he must be a villain. He boasts, says bizarre things. He is either a member of the secret police, or a spy of the Third Section, or one of the Nechaev types. He is strange and repels me. The strangest thing in the world is that he arrived followed by a boy carrying cakes and I know not what else. Maman has not enough character to put someone in his place and laughed it off. She has this weakness — she does not sufficiently distinguish with whom she speaks in railway carriages, at the roulette table. I would never strike up a conversation with a stranger. I am like the English — and one need not be English to act with good sense. This man stays a very long time; it irritates me. I take everything to heart and it does me great harm. To crown my horror! It is too much — they take him home in our carriage!!! A man one sees for the first time. And so strange! They themselves suspect him of being some traitor, spy, or worse, and have not the strength to rid themselves of him. They will regret it! He is a dangerous man! He will cause us trouble! Oh! my God, how much I have to suffer from Maman’s weakness, her kindness and her trust!—!!!?!!!!!
We went to the Villa Audiffret, but they ask seven thousand francs — one can have a place on the Promenade for that price. So that has fallen through, and still nothing! (travel dress).
After dinner I went to speak with the Duchess; we wanted the apartment for another month. She cannot. At dinner we spoke of marriage, of attachments, etc. I said that a decent girl cannot love a married man, and it is my conviction: never in my life shall I have the notion that a married man could attract me — like, yes; love, never. Markevitch said it made no difference. She is a woman without principles — a scatterbrain. Then, I said to her, if the coachman takes your fancy, you will love him?
(when she said one can love anyone).
— Yes! certainly, if he takes my fancy.
I was a little embarrassed for her. For me, men below my station do not exist. They are not men but machines in our service. Markevitch says:
— For you, nobody counts unless he is a duke!
At these words, fearing to blush, I jumped up to strike her with the napkin, saying:
— Be quiet, Solominka — you are stupid! truly stupid!
Maman and my aunt watched this, smiling with indulgence. They suspect.
In the evening at the Howards’. There we found the Ginews. The daughter is very nice, has a very frank way of shaking hands. She speaks only English, I believe; we said a few words. They left.
The Howards began to tell stories of the Boutovskys with their boys — favourites, as they call them. Each has one or more favourites — letters, secrets, etc. etc. They are tremendous gossips, Lise and Aggie; the boys too, but they give way to the girls. Mr. and Mrs. Howard and Hélène arrive Saturday. The Boutovskys and little Skariatine are very amusing with their loves and their boys and favourites. What a horror! Nina Bellotti’s favourite — and who is it? Her bathing attendant! It is horrible!
How I wish I could go to Vienna! Oh! let me go there! My God, grant me this!

Notes

Written in Russian in the manuscript; French translation by the editor. ↩
In English in the original. ↩